


Up All Night

by ebbj9891



Series: In Quest Of Something [36]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Established Relationship, Friendship, M/M, Parent-Child Relationship, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-20 09:47:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6001492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebbj9891/pseuds/ebbj9891
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brian, Justin, and Cynthia have returned to Pittsburgh temporarily to woo a new client. Cynthia figures it's going to be a cinch... but then disaster strikes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Life is crazy at the moment, hence the lack of updates. I hope to be back soon with the second chapter to this story plus a few other updates for some other WIPs. I hope you enjoy this one :)

“This is brilliant, Sunshine.”

As Brian continues in his adamant flattery of Justin, Cynthia smiles to herself. She can’t decide what’s sweeter - Brian singing Justin’s praises, or Justin blushing and grinning giddily. The two of them never fail to warm what she considers to be her cold, icy heart.

Practically glowing, Justin says, “Brilliant, huh?”

“Brilliant.” Brian traces his hand over the intricate artwork that Justin has been slaving away on since early this morning. “They’ll love it.”

‘They’ are the owners of a new bookstore which has just opened up in Pittsburgh, and which might soon be spreading to different locations. Having heard great word about Kinnetik, the owners pursued Brian doggedly and refused to let anyone else touch the brief. And so Brian and Cynthia returned to Pittsburgh for a couple of weeks to work on it, with Justin joining them. The official story is that the creative team at Pittsburgh are tied up with other clients, but Cynthia suspects that Justin’s involvement has more to do with Brian playing favourites than anything else.

The two weeks are almost at an end. Since Brian has perfected his pitch and Justin has finished the drafts, all that’s left is the presentation tomorrow morning. Cynthia knows it will be a cinch. It’s already in the bag, it has been since the beginning. The bookshop’s owners are already in lust with Kinnetik and its fearless leader; Brian understands exactly what they want and has devised a flawless marketing plan; and Justin’s exquisite designs are the cherry on top. The presentation tomorrow is basically a formality.

And thank god for that, because Cynthia can’t wait to leave the office. They’ve been at it for two weeks now, working slowly yet steadily, but the bulk of the work was done today. She estimates that they’ve spent ten solid hours getting everything prepped and, boy, is it time to take a break.

“Okay guys,” she says, putting a stop to their kissing. “Let’s get this into the conference room. Then we can call it a night.”

Justin stands up and starts sorting the posters he’s been working on into a neat stack. He shoots a smile at Cynthia and asks, “You’re coming to Mom’s, right?”

“Gus is expecting you to,” Brian adds, as he types something on his laptop.

“Sure.” Cynthia smiles back at Justin. “I’d love to.”

Years ago, when she and Brian first started working together, she never would have suspected how radically their post-work plans would change. Back then, they’d finish a day like this with drinks and dinner, which they still do a lot in New York. But tonight, they’ll be heading over to Jen’s for dinner, games, and a movie. Cynthia also couldn’t have anticipated how much she enjoys nights like these. It’s not her typical scene, but she’ll make an exception for Jen (who’s honestly pretty fantastic) and Gus (who Cynthia adores beyond all reason). Plus, she’s up for anything if Brian and Justin are involved.

“Good,” Justin says as he checks his phone. “Mom texted me a while back… they should be here soon. Beware, Gus is going to be high as fuck from all the sugar she’s given him.”

Brian glances away from his laptop and looks at Justin in horror. “How much sugar are we talking?”

“They went to the movies, apparently…” Justin pauses to think. “So… candy? Soda? Maybe an icecream?”

But before Cynthia or Brian can place their own bets, they’re distracted by a couple of beeps at the front door. Jen has tagged in and is walking Gus into the office. He’s definitely on a sugar high - he’s bouncing around, giggling about something, and clearly keen to get to Brian. Cynthia is impressed to note that Justin was mostly right - Gus is sipping from a cup of soda that’s almost as big as his head, and he’s clutching an icecream in his other hand. They look like post-movie snacks… the kind that Gus is wont to beg for while exiting the cinema. Cynthia has crushed those dreams a few times when they’ve gone to the movies, but apparently Jen has indulged the kid.

“Cynthia!” Gus beams at her. “Nanna took me to the movies!”

“So I hear.” Cynthia ruffles his hair. “Did you have fun?”

“I had Fanta and sherbet and ‘mallows and popcorn,” Gus rambles rapidly, “And then Nanna even let me get another whole drink, Coke this time, and an icecream!”

Out of the corner of her eye, Cynthia catches Justin shaking his head - the little hypocrite! It wasn’t long ago that Justin was in exactly the same boat that Jen is.

“Dad!” Gus squeals and beams even brighter. “Dad, Dad, guess what?!”

And just like that, Cynthia and Jen are forgotten. Gus has once again developed tunnel vision - a very niche, Brian-specific form of tunnel vision.

“Hey kiddo.” Brian grins at Gus. “Come over here and look at Sunshine’s designs.”

That escalates Gus’ excitement radically. He squeals again and rushes away from Cynthia and Jen. In his eagerness to reach Brian, Gus doesn’t take notice of the laptop cable that is snaking across the carpet. Before Cynthia can so much as open her mouth to warn him, Gus runs at Brian, tangles his feet in the cable, and goes flying.

He hits the floor with a loud _thump._ A split second of silence follows, and then Gus starts bawling. Everyone rushes towards him; Brian gets there first and scoops the kid up. As he cradles Gus in his arms, Cynthia, Justin, and Jen all crowd around.

Justin grabs hold of Gus’ hand and asks, “Gussy, are you okay?”

“It hurts,” Gus wails. “It hurts!”

“Poor baby,” Jen coos. She starts stroking Gus’ hair. “That was a bad fall!”

As the others fuss over Gus, Cynthia checks him for any major injuries. There don’t seem to be any. The heel of his right hand is a little scuffed, but that’s about it.

Gus, too, seems to have awoken to the fact that his injuries aren’t, well, _injuries._ He blinks back the tears, but somehow the sobbing continues - and very noisily at that.

Cynthia almost bursts out laughing. Nobody else notices it, but she sure as hell does: the exact moment Gus realises he’s not hurt but decides to continue pretending to garner all of the attention coming his way.

“It hurts here,” he whimpers, pointing to his knee, and then to various other points, “And here, and here, and here!”

Funny how each and every one of those areas wouldn’t have been impacted by the fall at all. Nobody else seems to pick up on that, though - Brian, Justin, and Jen are still doting on Gus blindly.

Cynthia gives him a look: _You don’t fool me, kid._

Gus gives her a look right back: _Don’t ruin this for me!_

She snorts softly and decides to leave it be. It’s not like she has any right to criticise Gus - she used to pull that trick all the time at school. Sometimes it was the only way to get any attention at all.

Cynthia stands up and goes to pick up Gus’ backpack from over by the desk. Some of his belongings have been scattered so she gathers them, places them back in the bag, and zips it up tight. As she’s securing the zipper for the front pocket, something cold and wet drips on her foot.

She glances down and sees a drop of pale green trickling into her stiletto. It looks like icecream. Like the icecream cone Gus was carrying when he…

“Oh, shit.”

Cynthia gapes at the scene before her. Suddenly, everything comes rushing back: Gus came running into the room with his backpack dangling from his arm, an icecream in his left hand, and the absurdly large cup of Cola in his right. When he fell, everyone rushed to where he landed, and ignored where everything else wound up.

The backpack landed by the desk, where it spat out all of its contents.

The icecream landed directly on Brian’s laptop, where it’s now melting into the keyboard.

The Cola splattered all over the stack of drafts, which are now unrecognisable.

Cynthia reaches for the stack of drafts and tries to peel them apart, but the sticky soda has already soaked through. She can feel that dripping into her shoe, too, but she doesn’t react. She’s too stunned.

“Cyn? Are you okay?”

She almost wants to turn around and tackle Justin, to save him from witnessing this horror. But, again, she’s too late. Justin joins her at the desk, gasps, and slaps his hand over his mouth.

That steals Brian’s attention away from the drama with Gus. He looks up and asks, “What’s going on?”

“We have a problem,” Cynthia says softly. She pats Justin’s arm but he doesn’t respond at all - he looks totally stricken.

When Brian comes to stand beside them, all the colour drains from his face. Jen scoops Gus up and carries him over to the desk, and both of them gasp at the sight.

For a few moments, everything is still. Then Gus bursts into tears - real tears, this time - and twists out of Jen’s arms. He reaches frantically for one of the pages and blurts out, “I’ll fix it, I’ll fix it!”

But when he tries to wipe the puddle of soda away, the ink smears and the paper tears. Gus cries even harder. He backs away from the desk and caves against Jen, who settles her hands on his shoulders.

“It’s alright,” she whispers. “Don’t cry, sweetie.”

“But I ruined everything!”

Cynthia feels for the kid. He’s clearly devastated - maybe not as devastated as Brian and Justin are, but devastated nonetheless. She glances between Justin, who still looks stunned, and Brian, who looks torn between defeat, frustration, and outright anger.

Then, just like that, Brian snaps out of it. The conflicted expression vanishes from his face and he assumes a gentler look. He kneels down in front of Gus and cups the boy’s face in his hands. “Kiddo, it’s okay.”

Gus closes his eyes and hangs his head. As tears continue to spill down his cheeks, he whimpers, “I’m so sorry, Daddy.”

Ah, ‘Daddy’ - the term that Gus reverts back to so frequently. Cynthia hasn’t heard him say ‘Mommy’ to Mel or Linds in years but he seems to still favour calling Brian ‘Daddy’, especially at times of distress.

“It’s okay,” Brian murmurs. He pulls Gus in and hugs him. “It was an accident. It’s okay.”

Even with Brian hugging him and Jen stroking his hair, Gus is still anguished. In a tiny little voice, he asks, “Do you hate me?”

“Gus,” Brian breathes. He looks wounded at the mere thought. “No, I don’t hate you. I could never.”

“We love you, Gussy,” Justin says. Cynthia knows without a doubt that he means it, but she can’t help but notice that his tone is a little flat. She figures that has less to do with his feelings for Gus (which are unchangeable, of course) and more to do with his feelings for his lost artwork.

“None of us hate you,” Jen promises. “It was just an accident. But you know you need to be more careful, honey.”

She gives Brian a reassuring look and whispers, “I’ll talk to him about it.”

Brian smiles weakly up at her, then refocuses on Gus. “Hey, look at me.”

Gus lifts his head and opens his eyes. Brian manages to deliver a sounder smile. He squeezes Gus’ shoulders and says soothingly, “It’s all going to be alright. Now, kiddo, there’s going to have to be a change of plans.”

As Brian explains that they can’t have their night together anymore, Gus slowly brings his crying under control. He nods along and at the end of it, says, “Okay, Daddy. I understand.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Brian kisses Gus’ forehead. “We’ll make plans. Now, go with Jen.”

“Come on, sweetness.” Jen takes Gus’ hand and then accepts the backpack from Cynthia. “We’ll have a special night together, just us two. It’ll be lots of fun.”

And together, they walk out of the office. Cynthia listens to their footfalls fade and watches Justin, who still appears shell-shocked - the poor thing.

In a low voice, Brian asks, “Is he gone?”

Cynthia steps towards the doorway and watches as Jen and Gus exit, hand-in-hand. As soon as the door closes behind them, she nods at Brian, and braces for impact.

“Fuck!” Brian grabs the empty cup off the desk and tosses it in the general direction of the bin. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck!”_

He looks like he’d like to go further - maybe toss the laptop through the open window, or overturn the desk altogether. But after a tense moment of seething, Brian simply collapses into his chair. He rubs his hands over his face, obscuring his anger-afflicted features. Dully, he mutters, “Fuck.”

Cynthia glances at Justin, who isn’t doing much better. He, too, has failed to peel apart the stack of drafts. They’re ruined, no doubt about that. Unsalvageable. Cynthia feels for Justin - he worked so hard on the designs, and it was exemplary work at that.

She wouldn’t blame Justin if he were to crack right now - maybe pick up where Brian left off and trash the office, or simply storm out into the night. In her many years in advertising, she’s witnessed many tantrums of this sort. What drove those tantrums (computers crashing; clients bailing; coffees too hot or too cold) pales in comparison to the ruined artwork that is clearly breaking Justin’s heart.

But Justin doesn’t crack. He sighs, shakes his head, and goes to stand behind Brian’s chair. As he rests his hands on Brian’s tensed shoulders, Justin murmurs, “It’ll be okay.”

Brian scoffs. “How, exactly?”

“We’ll figure it out.” Justin leans down and presses a kiss to Brian’s temple. “We’ll fix it.”

“It took us ten fucking hours to do… _that.”_ Brian flicks his hand angrily towards the spoiled drafts. “So what, we just start again? We’ll be here all night.”

“So,” Justin shrugs, “We’ll be here all night. We’ll do the work.”

“And go into the meeting sleep-deprived?”

“Don’t act like you haven’t done that a million times over.”

“Try a billion,” Cynthia snarks. That earns her a sullen look from Brian and a cheeky grin from Justin. She grins back at them both. “Justin’s right-”

“I’m always right,” Justin gloats quietly. He’s clearly recovering rapidly from his state of distress.

“As I was saying…” Cynthia arches an eyebrow at him, then continues, “We can fix this. It might take all night, but it is what it is.”

“It might not even take that long,” Justin points out. “We spent a lot of time researching and deliberating. All of that’s done. It’s just the pitch and the artwork.”

Cynthia nods in agreement and, happily, Brian does too. Since all three of them are clearly moving into a more positive frame of mind, Cynthia decides not to make a snarky comment about the other time-consuming activity that could be avoided to save time. Because, honestly, the ten hours that Brian and Justin spent working today were sectioned into four categories: research, deliberation, drafting, and flirting. None of this would have taken so long if Brian and Justin could quit it with their doe-eyed, handsy, innuendo-ridden routine. Then again, telling Brian and Justin not to flirt with each other is like trying to stop the tide. So Cynthia zips her lips on that front and focuses on getting them geared up for work.

“I’ll get the coffee started,” she resolves. “And I’ll order in some dinner. Brian, call Alison and ask her to come pick up your laptop - she might be able to fix it. Justin, honey, can you start cleaning up this mess? I’ll give you a hand in a minute.”

And just like that, they all rush into action - preparing to begin all over again.


	2. Chapter 2

“Fucking hell,” Cynthia mutters as she tries to swab the last of the soda off Justin’s first draft. The second and third are well and truly lost, but she’s determined to salvage this one.

There are major flaws, of course - the soda has stained the artwork and has left the paper sticky and unpleasant to touch, plus a sizeable section has been wrecked by Gus’ attempt to ‘fix it’. But the rest of the design is in relatively good shape. If only Cynthia could clean away a little more residue, then Justin could use this as a template for the re-draft.

“How’s it going?”

As Brian approaches and hooks an arm around her, Cynthia huffs and threatens, “I’m banning soda from the office, that’s how it’s going.”

“One would hope that our staff are more coordinated than Gus,” Brian drawls. He props his chin on her shoulder and sighs. “You don’t have to stay. Justin and I can handle this.”

Cynthia laughs and shakes her head. “I’m not going anywhere, Kinney.”

“It’s been a long day-”

“I don’t care. I’m staying.” She quits swabbing the artwork and picks it up by its top corners, which fortunately, escaped being splashed by Gus’ Cola. As she turns around, she gives Brian a look. “How long have we worked together?”

With a smirk, he retorts, “I think we’d both prefer that I didn’t answer that.”

Cynthia pauses to consider that. Yeah, he’s right - if they put a number on it, then they’d have to admit how old they’re both getting. She smiles and elbows him as she walks past him into the workroom. “Anyway, it’s been long enough that you should know that I’m not going to bail at a time like this.”

“Yeah, but-”

“‘Yeah, but’ nothing.” Cynthia nods to the tub of bulldog clips next to the makeshift clothesline she’s fashioned with a random roll of birthday ribbon from the supply cupboard. As Brian grabs a couple of clips and helps her hang the draft up, she snarks, “Besides - let’s say I do leave. Would you be able to give me any kind of guarantee that you and Justin could keep your hands off each other?” 

“What, do you think I have absolutely no self-control?”

“I think it’s in severely limited supply.”

They grin at each other. Cynthia pokes Brian’s chest and promises, “I’m staying.”

“Thanks.” Brian turns away as Justin comes into the room with a fresh supply of paper, pencils, and pens. “Good to go?”

“I guess so.” Justin gazes forlornly at the artwork hanging from the clothesline. “Thanks, Cyn.”

As Justin sags into his seat, Brian goes and sits beside him. He reaches over and touches Justin’s back, then turns it into a soft caress as he muses, “No use crying over spilt soda, Sunshine.”

“I know.” Justin grabs a pencil, but rather than taking it to the page, he starts chewing on it idly. “But it was perfect -  _ perfect.  _ You saw how long it took me. I mean, it’s not my usual genre…”

Cynthia looks at the ruined artwork and admires it. Through the sticky sheen, the detailed drawings of fairy-tales and folklore peek through. Justin has created worlds within worlds - there are trees with gnarled branches and deep, dark hollows; beyond those forests are mountains with waterfalls trickling down, their paths twisting and turning; and nestled within the mountains’ walls are caverns containing pathways that look as though they could lead anywhere. Spotted here, there, and everywhere are hints of activity - a flash of a red cloak disappearing between the trees, footprints leading into one of the cavern’s pathways, a hand holding a glistening red apple. Red is the only colour apparent in the designs - everything else is simple black and white.

Well, at least, it was. Pre-soda, that is.

“Honey, it’s beautiful.” Cynthia goes to give Justin a hug, which makes him smile a little. “They really will love it.”

“It’s going to be a fucking bitch to re-create,” he mumbles. But just as Cynthia is worrying about how disheartened he sounds, Justin shrugs and says more brightly, “But whatever. I’ll get it done.”

As Brian and Justin get back to work, Cynthia starts clearing away the empty tubs of take-out. In the bin they go, on top of the two ruined drafts and Gus’ empty cup. The sight of both brings back the memory of Gus crying. He was so obviously ashamed of himself, the poor thing.

Fortunately, Brian made that all better.

“That was really good of you,” Cynthia muses. She goes to sit on the corner of the desk and starts unstrapping her stilettos - no way is she putting up with them any longer. As her feet touch the carpet, she looks at Brian and adds, “The way you treated him.”

He shrugs at her. “What did you think I was going to do? Flip out? He’s just a kid.”

Justin scoffs softly. “My dad would have screamed the house down if I’d ever done something like that.”

Cynthia nods. “Mine would have backhanded me.”

She keeps her eyes on Brian through all of this and watches it: the tenderness that floods his features when he speaks of Gus; the flash of anger at the mention of Craig Taylor; and then, when Cynthia references her own father, recognition.

They’ve never actually talked about their parents, not really. There have only been passing remarks about what fucking assholes the lot of them are. Mostly, it’s moments like this one - where they recognise something in one another. It’s like they see each other and silently acknowledge the shared experience. 

And then the moment ends, which is what they both expect. No dwelling, no tearful confessions… what would be the point? It is what it is, or rather, it was what it was.

As the moment passes, once again, Cynthia looks away. She doesn’t miss the curious look that Justin is giving Brian. She wonders, sometimes, what he knows. Probably very little. Likely not enough, from Justin’s perspective. 

She can see that Brian is trying to ignore the look, and though she loves Justin dearly, she sides with Brian. Cynthia clears her throat and grabs one of the ink pens from the table. “Here, let me help.”

Justin stares at her in obvious horror. “Uh, sorry?”

Cynthia sits down beside him and arches an eyebrow at him. “Let me help. I can copy some of the smaller details from that.”

She stabs the pen in the direction of the draft hanging across from them. Justin glances at it, then back to her. He doesn’t seem convinced at all. Brian isn’t helping one bit by sitting back and snickering at the whole thing - whether it’s at Cynthia’s offer or Justin’s reluctance is unclear.

“Justin,” she says, utilising her finely-tuned  _ don’t-fuck-with-me  _ tone, “You have a shit of a lot of work to recreate. I may not be an artist of your calibre, but I can help with the little things - the leaves on the trees, for example. Are you going to let me help or not?”

He gazes at the re-draft, which doesn’t come close to containing worlds within worlds - it’s basically just the forest floor so far with a few tree trunks rising up. Justin touches the paper gently - it reminds Cynthia of how Brian was tending to Gus earlier - and then asks nervously, “Can you just try one to start with so I can see-”

“Oh, for fuck’s sakes,” Cynthia blurts out, just as Brian cracks up laughing.

Determined to prove that Justin’s over-protectiveness is, quite frankly, fucking absurd, Cynthia uncaps the pen and adds a leaf to a cluster that Justin has already drawn. She snaps her fingers and calls Brian’s name, then demands, “Can you tell the difference?”

Brian leans over and studies the artwork. “Which one did you-?”

“Exactly.” Cynthia stares daggers at Justin. “Well?”

“Okay.” Justin repositions the page so it’s set evenly in between them. He smiles sheepishly at her. “Thanks, Cyn.”

She can’t resist that smile - it’s sweetness and sunshine blended together. Cynthia smiles back and nudges Justin affectionately. “No problem.”

*

By midnight, the forest has been recreated and Justin has moved on to the mountain range. Cynthia leaves him to it - there’s no way she’s skilled enough to help with that part of the design. She gets up and goes to make more coffee, which all three of them are in dire need of.

It’s strange how midnight feels like such a late hour tonight. Cynthia feels ready to drop, whereas any other night, she might still be out at a bar having a fabulous time. She can see that Brian and Justin are in the same boat - there are circles forming under Justin’s eyes, and Brian is half-slumped over the laptop that Alison lent him (sadly, it looks like his is a goner).

While the coffee brews, Cynthia paces the office and stretches. When she passes by the workroom, she notices Justin swivelling his chair around and propping his feet atop Brian’s legs. The soft smile that Brian gives him is too adorable for words. 

As she continues pacing, Cynthia goes to admire the boards in Malcolm’s office from one of his new accounts. The photography is stunning. No wonder Malcolm’s office is also crowded with thank-you cards and flowers - like Brian is always saying, his work is excellent. Cynthia then heads into Ted’s office to check out the new photos he’s put up of the family, plus him and Blake. She had considered giving Ted a call to join them, but decided against it in the end. Ted already works so hard, and besides, he’s probably enjoying a nice night off with Blake. They’ve likely already turned in for the night… Cynthia envies them for that.

When the coffee machine clicks off, she returns to pour three very strong cups. As she sweetens Brian’s coffee generously, it triggers a craving for dessert. Cynthia checks in the cabinets and the fridge but there’s nothing to be found.

Since the coffee takes priority, she places the mugs on a tray and carries it back into the workroom. She stops in her tracks in the doorway -  _ goddamnit.  _ In the five minutes that she’s been absent, Justin’s feet have moved away from Brian’s legs and right into his lap. They’re both  _ pretending  _ to do work whilst smirking to themselves as they enjoy Justin’s foot-fondling.

Cynthia marches into the room and goes to set the tray down right in between them, which gives her the opportunity to nudge Justin’s legs out of the way, removing his feet from their seedy activities. She gives Justin a look of warning and asks, “How’s it going in here?”

Translation:  _ cut it the fuck out and get back to work. _

Justin smiles innocently and nods to his work. “It’s getting there. Hey, is there anything to eat?”

Cynthia knows exactly what he’s up to. She wonders whether to call him out or take a different approach. After a moment of silent deliberation, she gives him her sweetest smile and replies, “I’ll see what I can find.”

Then she leaves and pretends to go and forage for food that she already knows isn’t there. Cynthia spends precisely ten seconds in the kitchen to keep up the ruse, then returns quietly to a spot where she can monitor the situation. Mother  _ fucker -  _ Justin has gone right back to it.

She considers telling them to go and have it off in one of the bathrooms, just to get it out of their system. But that’s a high-risk endeavour… their ‘quickies’ can easily spiral into more indulgent sessions. They don’t have time for that tonight! 

Frustrated, Cynthia heads into Alison’s office and sits down. Alison has decorated her little IT haven with all sorts of artwork - comic strips, children’s book illustrations, postcards from galleries. It’s a nice place to find a moment of calm and think. It’s made more difficult, though, by Cynthia’s sweet tooth begging to be indulged.

Then inspiration strikes. Cynthia grins wickedly.  _ Yes! _

Time to call for reinforcements.

**TBC**  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like Brian, my self-control is also in severely limited supply - I've decided that this story needs a third chapter. I promise to update with that very, very soon :)


End file.
